Affectionately Sad
I think about this dream I had, where you would take me to my first day of school: me, in my best clothes, ponytails and shoes. You'd take me through the gym/rec area, take me to my classroom, and speak to the teacher before you go. I'm sure there were others there, but, to me, it was us. I dreamed that same dream even in high school: no matter how old I was when I dreamt it, I was still that 6-year-old girl that had her daddy walking her to class. Why I remember this dream I had around first grade, over 20 years later, I don't know. Some days I feel it telling me, "You're going to be okay."
But, you never did see me off to my first day of school. You never would see it.
I remember the Mardi Gras parade you took us on. We always went to Canal Street. You let me sit on your shoulders, all broad and strong. I don't remember catching anything, but I remember just being happy in that moment. Even if I were only on your shoulders for a short period of time, it was fun; I felt on top of the world. In a crowd of many, we were the only ones. It was precious time spent with you. It was giddy moments.
I can never have that moment again, but I could have had more moments like that.
Remember the times we went to Miss Clara's, and Miss Ethel's? Miss Clara was closer, but it still felt a long way for a little person. I'd walk next to you, him in the stroller. I enjoyed those times. Not so much the walking, sadly (LOL), but the quietness of it. There would be cars passing by, of course, but, to me, it was just the three of us.
Too bad I can never have those walks.
You know what I used to hate? I hated when you did my hair. First of all, you were heavy-handed. I don't care how "good" my hair was, heavy-handed combing was not the business, I don't care what they tell you! LOL. Second of all, you used baby oil. Nah, I'm good. At least it came out alright, or at least you made it seem that way. I also didn't like it when you had to give me my medicine for asthma. It was horse pills. No one likes horse pills. At least it could've been cut in half, man! LOL. And then you walked around in your underwear. Dude…Imma leave it at that.
At least you took the time out to do that, though.
I remember the way you cooked. You had a way of fixing silver dollar and dime-sized pancakes, scrambled eggs, and the salt and pepper hamburgers. One thing I remember is that, when you fixed something, you fixed A LOT! Yes! I know it's been years since I've had them, but I can still taste the burgers as I talk about them. I know I love Wendy's hamburgers because they remind me of your hamburgers. LOL. And the Old Milwaukee beer! Well, I couldn't drink it as a kid, but, still, I remember that was one of your favorite beers…that and Coors.
Oh, to have those moments again!
Then there was that classic car. I've always been a sucker for older model cars. You had a burnt orange El Camino and a tan '55-ish Plymouth…the one with the wing tails? I used to love taking rides in them. No one can say you didn't know how to pick out stylish cars!
Thank you for starting my love of cars!
But then I think about when you left. Did you ever think of us? Did you ever cry over us? Or talk about us? I never questioned her about why you left. I found out later, and I sometimes thought, "why didn't you get beyond it and fight to stay, or at least fight to come back?" I never told her about how you left affected me. I'm grown now, and still won't talk about it. Not because I'm trying to spare feelings, but because I'm still dealing with it, to an extent. I'm not sure how to say how it affected me verbally, so I turn to writing.
Truth be told, it hurt.
I think about how you missed kindergarten graduation, about how you left right before my 6th birthday, and about how you left behind what someone told you. Then there were other graduations and middle and high school. What person do you know TRULY enjoys middle school? I was fortunate to get through K-12 without getting into trouble or having much trouble, but it would have been nice to have you there. Thinking about the type of person you were, I can't imagine someone telling you something that'd make you want to walk away from us, even if you were mad. You should have also known you knew her better than whatever someone so shady said about her.
So many what-ifs…
I remember your last few days. You were in the hospital bed. At this point, I hadn't seen you since I was 5. Seven years. I wasn't sure I did want to see you. Of course I had missed you, but I had so many questions: how come I never received a phone call or a letter? I can understand if you were mad at her, but what about me? I looked just like you! I acted a lot like you, stutter and all. :) A part of me thinks and knows that I was a daddy's girl, but not so partial that I didn't take to her. I have equal parts of you and her, but I still act more like you. I remember that look you had as you held my hand, like you were saddened you missed us growing up, as if you were soaking up the fact that we were there. You cried a little. I couldn't stare long, though, because I was angry, but I wanted to cry, too.
Death, physical or spiritual, never makes anything easier.
So, I have my days where I feel like I've missed out on something. There's an eagerness, if you will, to want to know you, to have grown more with you, to know if life may have been different had you been around. But, as hurtful as your departure pre-death was, I try to remember the days I did cherish, and hope that they were the same for you.
